


Feel Your Hand Touching Me

by porcelainn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, basically fluff and angst, blind!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-16
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2018-01-08 22:51:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainn/pseuds/porcelainn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has been blind since birth and thinks no one will ever love him. Harry is the boy who has loved him since they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Your Hand Touching Me

**Author's Note:**

> So I just really wanted to write blind!Louis and this is what happened.
> 
> The title comes from Lover In Me by Selena Gomez.

Being blind never really struck Louis as a problem until he was a teenager. As a child, he was just like other kids. He would play and read and whine about school, the only difference was he didn’t watch TV, and his books were in Braille. But as he went from child, to preteen, to teen, he realised it would be a slight problem. Louis wanted to be loved, and to fall in love, and he didn’t see how that was possible when he couldn’t see. Because boys wanted compliments, didn’t they? A boy who can see their features and say that they like them. So at seventeen, Louis realised he would be staying single for a bit. At nineteen he realised _a bit_ would be longer than he originally thought. Now, at twenty-one, he’d given up completely on ever falling in love. Not that he wanted to give up, but he’d been single this long with his friends dating girl after girl, boy after boy.

It was a week after this realisation that he was whining down the phone to his Mum. “But you don’t realise, I want to come to this...whatever you’re calling it. But I can’t because I don’t want to sit there and feel everyone’s eyes on me, seeing me as arrogant for the sunglasses then noticing the cane. I can’t really be bothered dealing with the insults then the falling over each other to apologise.” Louis heard her sigh and then mutter something to one of his sisters. “Louis Tomlinson, you will be coming and you will not be rude to a single pair of eyes that happen to land on you.” He may as well have been a child still, because at that he agreed to go.

It happened every time he went to something his mother wanted him to go to with her. The other problem with being blind was his eyes. Well, obviously, but not just them failing to work, the way they looked. Milky white eyes are not a good look, so he has the sunglasses he wears whenever he goes out. But you wear sunglasses inside, and people are going to judge you if they don’t know the full story, which he wasn’t exactly willing to tell the second he greeted a person. Instead, he chose to attempt to deal with it without pulling his cane out and waving it in their faces as if to yell “Hello, you just insulted a blind man.” That wasn’t his thing.

The day of the party, (His mother told him not to call it that, and to call it a get together, but he was going to call it a party anyway) Louis was calling his mother again. “Louis Tomlinson it is 5am.” She said, instead of a real greeting. “Yeah Mum, I know. But this is important, like really important. Is Harry going to be there?” He was sure that if his mother swore in front of him, she would have told him to fuck off. “Yeah Lou, he’ll be there.” She groaned before hanging up.

Harry Styles was something else.

Harry met Louis when he was seven. He was against the fence of the playground, book in his lap and Harry wanted to say hello. He only went over, though, because the boy was reading, but wasn’t looking at the book and he was confused. Their first conversation started with “You gotta look at the pages to read.” and Louis scoffed before showing the boy in front of him that there wasn’t _really_ anything to look at.

That afternoon, Harry went home and told his Mum he met the most special boy in the world. That afternoon, Louis told his own Mum the same thing.

Harry lived for socialising. Hearing about the party (He too refused to call it a get together) he was ecstatic. He bugged and bugged everyone for a final guest list, needing to know who was going to be there. He couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped through his lips when the top of this list had Louis’ name. Part of him was wondering if Louis even knew he was going, but the rest of him knew that Louis wouldn’t be happy about this. You know these things about a person when you’ve been their friend for eleven years. Louis hated being around large groups of people because he hated explaining his eyes.

Louis was asleep when his Mum showed up to get him. He awoke to her muttering. “Had the audacity to wake me up at ungodly hours to see if his boyfriend would be there and isn’t even ready when I get here.” He pretended to be asleep so he wouldn’t have to, yet again, explain that he and Harry were just friends. Everyone thought they were dating. Probably because they spent a lot of time together and Louis let him call him babe. Maybe the fact they were always clinging to each other was another reason, but they had to. Otherwise Louis might run into something or someone, and Harry is much nicer than the cane, he talks back.

“Mother dearest, where is the curly one?” Louis asked, they’d barely walked through the door. “There are multiple curly ones here, my dear son.”  She replied, keeping the same tone as he had. Louis groaned before letting go of her arm. “You know I only care about the one set of curls, you are such a pain at times.” And with that, he unfolded the cane, manoeuvring through the room, trying to not knock everyone over as he waited to hear the one voice he was looking for. His phone told him fifteen minutes had passed, and then he heard it. “Louis, I’m gonna hug you in like 5 seconds.” Harry said from behind him, Louis could hear the smile in his voice. Then he felt the arms wrap around him from behind, chin resting on his shoulders.

When Harry loosened his arms, Louis folded the cane back up, hooking it on his belt loop then reaching out for Harry’s arm. Come on, I need to sit and I need you to bring me alcohol or food. Preferably both. But sitting first is necessary.” So Harry led him to the back of the room to the lounge chairs that had been pushed out of the way.  “Why do you need me, you grew up in this house?” The laugh he was holding back was evident. “Well Harold, I didn’t grow up with people scattered through my living room and kitchen, so I need you to make sure I don’t knock the elderly down and break their hips.” Louis knew there were no actual elder people there, but he also knew it would make Harry smile and that’s really all that mattered.

Harry Styles hates Louis Tomlinson. Except he doesn’t, really. He just hates that Louis will never look at him. And that’s never going to sound right, but he just wants Louis to think of him as more than the curly one who he can lean on. Because maybe, just maybe, Harry has been in love with him since he was seven and told his Mum he met the most special boy. But Louis had given up on love at seventeen, and fourteen year old Harry was the first person he told.

It’s a week after the party when Harry finds himself calling him Mum to complain about his best friend. “I can’t even tell him, Mum. I can’t be like “Hey Louis, you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen and I’m quite in love with you.” because he doesn’t believe in love anymore. And I just want to tell him.” He does this often enough that Anne expects it. “Harry, sweetie, you’re only eighteen. You’ll find someone who does believe in love, and then you’ll wonder why you ever liked Louis.” After she said it, Harry hung up. He didn’t want to hear that, he wanted to hear that Louis would love him.

Louis didn’t hear from Harry for a week, which was weird. He was trying to work out why he wasn’t talking to him when his phone buzzed. He answered it, pressing the phone to hi ear. Before he could finish saying hello, Harry was talking over him. “I need you to meet me at mine in an hour. Goodbye Lou.” It was an odd request after ignoring him, but Louis got ready to be there on time anyway.

He almost didn’t get there by the time Harry wanted him there, the cab driver was apparently against Louis, taking the longest possible route. Louis was still grumbling about the fare when he got to Harry’s door, knocking twice, as loud as he could. He was nervous, always was when Harry didn’t talk to him every few days, because what if he was sick of being friends with him? Sick of having to let Louis cling to his arm as he lead him through crowds. He really didn’t know what he’d do without Harry. But naturally, in the end, it was Louis who ends up pushing Harry away.

Harry came to the door, and Louis grinned hearing his voice, following him inside. He knew Harry’s flat as well as his own, so he really didn’t need any help in there. He felt his way to a chair, throwing himself down onto it. He’d just sat when Harry was talking again, and this is not what Louis was expecting.

“Lou, I’m in love with you.” Harry said quietly before taking a breath. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, and I know you don’t really believe in love, but I can’t help it. You think no one will love you because you can’t see. But you’re perfect, and I adore you.” What Harry wasn’t expecting after his confession was for Louis to be frowning at him. “No, Harry. You don’t love me. You love the idea of being loved, and it’s not fair of you to do this to me.” Then he was up and walking to the door, pulling it open roughly and leaving.

Harry felt tears prick at his eyes as he moved to sit where Louis had just been. He had hoped it would go like he wanted it to, for Louis to feel the same and _want_ him. Instead, he felt his heart both shatter and fall into his stomach as he realised Louis didn’t feel that way, and thought Harry was mocking him. He let himself fall asleep in that chair that night, not wanting to move to his bed.

Louis was mad. Louis was on the verge of crying, but he was more angry than upset.  He told Harry years ago that his sight would mean no one would love him, and Harry had said nothing. Now he was deciding that he was in love with him, and this was sure to be some sick joke. Something his friends were pulling to try and get Louis to believe then they’d drop it. Harry would be laughing, dimples on display, and they’d be amused by Louis’ belief that it was possible to love him. He refused to even think about Harry anymore. That was it, they were done.

Louis first learnt about the dimples when he was eighteen. You’d think that after being friends for eight years he’d know about these things by now, but he didn’t. He knew that Harry was taller than him, knew that he had stupidly curly hair, but that was it. They were sat in Harry’s room as he tried to do his homework and Louis tried to distract him because he was bored when Louis decided he wanted to know what Harry looked like, so the question finally left his lips.

“Harry Styles, I would quite like for you to let me touch your face.” He heard Harry laughed, and then heard the pen drop. “Yeah, okay.” was all it took for Louis to be grinning. He felt the bed dip as Harry sat in front of him, he didn’t need to reach out to know they were really close. So when he did reach his hand out for Harry’s face, he didn’t have to reach far before his fingers were touching what he assumed was his forehead.  “You have really nice skin.” Louis had whispered, and Harry had shaken his head. Louis’ fingers ran down, brushing against his cheekbones and a finger had gone too close to his eye, causing Harry to laugh. That’s when he felt the dimple as his hand moved down, Harry still laughing. “Do you have dimples?” Louis voice was close to being too ecstatic. “That’s so cute. Oh my god, Harry, dimples!” He reached his other hand out to find the other cheek, and there was the second dimple.  

The smile stayed glued to his face as one hand dropped back to his side, other moving down further. He felt his jaw, the beginnings of stubble brought on an “Aw, Harry’s growin’ up!” Then his fingers moved up, finding his mouth. He hadn’t meant to linger there, but when he felt the lips, he couldn’t help it. The only word Louis could think of to describe then was perfect. Harry chuckled, and he realised he said it out loud. He left a finger there, and then he was leaning forward. He knew Harry was his fifteen year old best friend, and that this was wrong, but he couldn’t help but brush his own lips against Harry’s. What he wasn’t expecting was for Harry to kiss him back before Louis pulled away. “How on Earth are you single, Harry Styles?” was all he said before saying goodbye and going home.

Louis didn’t think about Harry for a month. Okay, that’s a lie, but he didn’t call or text him for a month and it was basically the same thing. He sent him a message exactly one month after the confession. **Do you still love me?** And when he got an **Of course.** In reply, he left him alone for another month.

The thing was, Louis was in love with Harry, and had been since they kissed those years ago. Because Louis could tell if you were beautiful from touching your face, feeling your face, and Harry was the most beautiful person he’d felt. Not to mention, he’d never made Louis feel inferior because of his eyes, if anything he made Louis feel better about it. That’s why he freaked out and refused to talk to Harry, because he knew there was no chance that Harry could feel the same, no chance he’d want to be with him. It was hard not talking to him, not being around him, but it was something he had to do. Or at least that’s what he was telling himself.

Harry didn’t mean to turn up outside Louis’ apartment on his way home from the pub, but he did. It had been three months since he saw Louis, two months since he’d heard from him, and he had to see him. His friends from Uni taking him to the pub had been part of a plan to get him to forget Louis, but he drank too much and wouldn’t shut up about Louis, and now here he was, banging on the door at 1am, yelling for Louis to let him in. And because of the hour, Louis had no choice but to do so. Harry took in the sight, his hair was messy and his eyes were half closed as he stood there, waiting for him to come in. But his arms were folded across his chest, and he was scowling. “Even when you’re grumpy, you’re still pretty.” And Harry swore he didn’t mean to say that out loud. Louis scoffed and locked the door again, going to crawl back into bed without saying a single word. Harry most definitely did not intend to crawl into Louis’ bed behind him, but he did.

“Harry, get the fuck out.” Louis groaned, curling up and trying to pretend Harry wasn’t there. That was hard to do when Harry’s arms snaked around his waist and he felt his nose press against the back of his neck. “Lou, I love you and you push me away and I shouldn’t be here but I am because I don’t like my life without you. I just want you to love me.” Louis turned to face him, because he heard his voice break, and this was the only way he could reach his face to see if- Yes, Harry was crying.  “Haz, baby, don’t cry.” The tears broke him, broke the walls he was putting between them and he sat up, pulling Harry to his lap, hand reaching out to brush through his hair, trying to avoid his eyes. “Do love you, but you can’t love me, because I’m me and I can’t see you.” A sob took over Harry, and then he was pressing his face against Louis chest, because he said he loved him, and that’s all that mattered.

 


End file.
